The Soldier Island Murders
by HTB
Summary: A modern-day adaptation of the Agatha Christie's "And Then There Were None". Disclaimers - Agatha Christie owns this story, Windmills of Your Mind belongs to Alan and Marilyn Bergman; The Stolen Child belongs to WB Yeats; and Ten Little Soldier Boys belongs to Septimus Winner. Contains strong language, sex scenes, and scenes of hanging which may upset some readers.
1. Prologue

**_Ten Little Soldier Boys_**

 _Ten little soldier boys went out to dine,_

 _One choked his little self and then there were nine._

 _Nine little soldier boys stayed up very late,_

 _One overslept himself and then there were eight._

 _Eight little soldier boys travelling to Devon,_

 _One got left behind and then there were seven._

 _Seven little soldier boys chopping up sticks,_

 _One chopped himself in half and then there were six._

 _Six little soldier boys playing with a hive,_

 _A bumblebee stung one and then there were five._

 _Five little soldier boys going in for law,_

 _One got into chancery and then there were four._

 _Four little soldier boys sailing out to sea,_

 _A red herring swallowed one and then there were three._

 _Three little soldier boys walking in a zoo,_

 _A big bear hugged one and then there were two._

 _Two little soldier boys sitting in the sun,_

 _One got all frizzled up and then there was one._

 _One little soldier boy left all alone,_

 _He went and hanged himself and then there were none._

 **The People**

Kate Elizabeth Scott

Phoenix Rivers

Evelynne Rivers

Daniel George Brown

Gloria Vanessa Selwyn

Ryan Aliberti

Will John Teague

Jack Edward Harding

Lauren Jeanne Wallace

Angus Matthew Thompson

 **The Place** – Soldier Island

 **The Time** – Friday 14th August 2015


	2. Chapter 1

Lauren Wallace indicated left and pulled into the first lane of traffic. The exit was approaching. It felt as if she had been on the motorway for days. Having travelled from London to Devon, she was looking forward to getting out of her car and basking in the glorious sunshine that had recently struck the country.

As she stopped at the red traffic light, she repositioned her large Gucci sunglasses and reflected on the invitation.

 _Dearest Lauren, I do hope you remember me. We met at the Notting Hill carnival through mutual friends and found so much in common. Darling, I have recently acquired an absolutely gorgeous house on an island off of the Devon coast. It's stunning, and you must come and stay on Friday 14_ _th_ _August 2015 – there will be so many people there you will just love. Do come. Lots of love, Umayah Natalia Owen._

Lauren nodded to herself. What a fabulous opportunity to get out of London. She could not remember Umayah Owen, but it did not matter to her. She would once she saw her again. A private island sounded incredibly chic. How exciting…

"I love you", whispered Will Teague.

"I love you too", responded Jack Harding, as he nestled his head into Will's shoulder. It was past midday, but they were still in bed. They had no reason to be awake – they were staying in a seaside hotel, ready for a short journey down to the quayside to begin the real holiday, a stay on the mysterious Soldier Island.

Will, twenty-three, six-foot-four, muscular, and fair-haired, sat up, his strong arm resting on the small waist of his fiancé, Jack, a smaller, dark-haired boy of twenty. He looked out at the sun pouring through the open window onto the carpet and smiled. They were both so happy; nothing could douse their current mellow attitude towards life.

"What time is it?" Jack muttered sleepily.

"Quarter to one."

Jack pulled himself up and rubbed his eye. "Ugh—I need to shower. And pack, of course."

Will kissed Jack's forehead and laughed. "You've packed enough clothes for the weekend."

"Unlike you, Mr One Shirt Per Week", he responded humorously. "What time does the boat leave the quay?"

"No idea. You're the one who's read the email over and over again."

Jack smiled and exhaled, his breath full of good-natured exasperation. "Shower time", he said, clambering over Will to get out of bed. Will stopped him with his expansive hand on his lower back, brushed the dark hair from his boyfriend's eyes, and kissed him.

"This weekend is for us", he whispered against his lips.

Jack giggled and kissed Will back. "For us."

Dr Dan Brown thanked the final student to pass through the door, and sighed. That was it – the weekend had arrived. No more work, and no more befuddled undergraduates, although he would be the first to admit that he loved his job more than anything. Dr Brown was thirty-three, of average build, with a premature bald patch and a thin wisp of blondish hair. He had an easy smile and a sharp dress sense. His cheery demeanour contrasted greatly with his job title – Head of Criminology at the University of Alhampton.

He tucked his papers into his briefcase and picked up his iPad. He had been Google-searching images of Soldier Island before his lecture had begun. For that, he related proudly to everyone around, was where he would be passing the weekend. A free holiday—all thanks to U N Owen.

Kate Scott ran a hairbrush through her long red hair and sighed.

"Come on", she said aloud to herself. "Be brave."

Life had never been the same since—since that day last June. She sat up straight and fiddled a little with her owl necklace. She liked the tinkling sound it made. She smiled to herself and gave another weighted sigh. Alison had been very supportive of the idea; going away for a weekend to a beautiful island off of the Devon coast. It would be a good chance to break free and forget everything.

"Funny how she found me", Kate thought to herself. "I can't remember anyone called Umayah from school. Probably one of the international girls. We had a lot of them at St Catherine's."

Right, where did she put her suitcase?

Ryan Aliberti applied the handbrake and climbed out of the car, stretching his legs. He glanced at his watch. Twelve-fifty. He could be at the harbour in an hour, ready for the voyage to Soldier Island. There was plenty of time for a toilet break, a cup of coffee, and a cigarette before heading back onto the motorway.

He pulled out the letter he had stuffed into his jeans pocket and unfurled it. How exciting – he rarely went away on holiday. Running the family's Italian restaurant took up enough of his time. He hardly ever managed to get out for a drink with mates. A free holiday was far beyond his hopes. He did not know much of Soldier Island, only that it was a completely isolated citadel of its own, shuttered and solitary off the Devon coast. He had not even seen a photograph of it, only heard it mentioned in conversation. He smiled to himself and breathed deeply.

"No more Italian food", he thought to himself, "no more customers to serve, and no more budgeting my time. This is for me and only me."

At four o'clock, Phoenix Rivers and Evelynne Rivers boarded a taxi headed for the Sticklehaven quayside.

"We had better not be late", said Evelynne sharply to the bewildered driver. "We need to get to the ferry by half-past."

"Argh, no problem, ma'am", he said in a thick Devonshire accent.

Phoenix glanced out of the window with disdain.

"Christ. What on earth is this place?" he muttered. "We should never have left London."

"Don't even get me started", growled Evelynne as she examined her makeup in a shiny golden compact mirror. "At least the island will be nice."

"It's what we have to go through before arriving there though", grumbled Phoenix, grimacing at the dress sense of some of the locals plodding down the quiet high street. "I hope you have our tickets."

Evelynne did not bother responding. She was applying her lip-gloss in the little mirror. Phoenix shut his eyes and lolled his head back. Hopefully, this weekend would be exactly what this lad Uriah Owen – who apparently knew them both from boarding school – claimed it would be.

"Careful as you go, ma'am", said the attendant as he helped Gloria Selwyn off of the train and onto the platform.

"Thank you", she replied, repositioning her enormous glasses and running the other hand through her frizzy hair. She took her large wheeled suitcase and battered Glastonbury shoulder-bag and bustled through the station, attempting in vain to hail a taxi.

"Bloody nuisance", she muttered; she frequently had full-length conversations with herself. She was not having a good day. Her horoscope had predicted nothing but disaster. Her aura was out of alignment. Her tarot cards were not exactly promising, either.

Eventually, a taxi pulled in and wound down the window. Gloria leant forward and said in her shrill voice:

"Sticklehaven Quay—I'm going to Soldier Island."

Angus Thompson looked around the quayside. Someone had to come along soon. He shouldn't have left home so early—why had he? He hated being early for anything. It made him look like a knob.

Nineteen years old, he was dressed in a gaudy fluorescent pink hoodie, tracksuit bottoms slung low below his buttocks, and a snapback cap over his thick, side-swept hair. He spent his life doing one of three things – getting drunk, getting laid, or texting. "Plenty of time for all that at this party", he said to himself, squinting out to Soldier Island.

He sighed as taxis began to pull up. Several people clambered out, hauling suitcases with them. A man in his thirties – well dressed in suit and tie; a girl of about twenty-three with red hair; and two people got out of the last one – a brother and sister, covered in glistening bling and expensive clothes. The girl, who wore hair extensions and carried a tacky handbag with a heavy gold chain, was lathered in makeup; having said that, the boy was too.

"Where's the ferry?" asked the girl.

"Ferry?" enquired the smartly-dressed man. "I shouldn't think a ferry would dock here. There's not enough space."

"We were told a boat was coming to take us out to the island", said the boy in disgruntlement.

"Undoubtedly it will, unless you want to swim the way", said the man in good humour. He said to everyone: "I'm Dan—Dan Brown."

The red-haired girl gave an oddly strained smile.

"Pleasure to meet you…I'm Kate Scott."

Angus sat forward. "Angus Thompson."

They turned expectantly to the brother and sister, who did not even bother to smile when they introduced themselves. "Phoenix and Evelynne."

The awkward moment was thankfully broken by Dan, who caught the attention of the short, crusty-looking boatman who was walking past with a long coil of rope in his hands.

"Uh—excuse me…we're for the weekend party on Soldier Island."

"Argh, that's right, Sir", said the boatman, straightening his cap. "Fred's the name. I'll be taking you over to the island."

"Just you?" asked Phoenix Rivers, a little horrified.

"Argh. In her over there."

He pointed to a small, dingy motorboat bobbing around in the oily water. The twins' jaws nearly hit the ground.

They were soon joined by five more passengers—a dark, sturdily-built young man named Ryan; a batty-looking woman wearing what appeared to be a purple curtain wrapped about her shoulders – her name was Gloria; a tall, beautiful woman of about thirty who looked like a fashion model, who introduced herself as Lauren; and two young men in a taxi – Will, big and fair, Jack, little and dark.

"We're all off to this party on Soldier Island, I assume", said Will.

"Apparently so", said Kate.

"Are we all friends of Umayah Owen?" enquired Lauren Wallace.

"She sent me an email", said Kate, looking up at the sunshine. "But I don't remember her. Apparently, we knew each other at school."

"Umayah?" said Dan. "I was invited by a man. Mr U N Owen."

"Uriah Owen invited us", said Phoenix Rivers.

"And me", said Angus.

"How extraordinary", said Gloria.

"Right!" shouted Fred, the boatman. "Hop in, ladies and gents. Mind your step."

It took a little while to get everyone into the boat—it wobbled in the water considerably, and the majority of the passengers were either unsteady or nervous. Once they were all in, Fred revved up the motor, and they all headed off into the distance, all of them – in their own ways – thrilled and excited for the weekend that lay ahead.

None of them realised they would never be returning.


	3. Chapter 2

_Dear all,_

 _Huge apologies; I have been called away. I will be here on Friday evening. There is plenty of food and alcohol to tickle your fancy! Do settle in._

 _U N Owen_

"You're joking", said Evelynne Rivers, as she slammed the letter down on the table angrily. "This is ludicrous."

Dan Brown read it. "Seems reasonable. Maybe this Owen has a high-powered job, working unpredictable hours."

"Why would anyone need to work, owning a place like this?" said Angus Thompson, looking up to the domed ceiling of the atrium in which they stood. "It's sick, mate."

"Must take a lot of upkeep", said Ryan Aliberti, his eyes on some knick-knacks on the sideboard.

"But—we have to cook our own dinner?" said Phoenix Rivers in horror.

"As long as there's rice, I'll be fine", said Gloria Selwyn. "I'm gluten-free."

"If there's any worry", said Ryan with a touch of ironic humour, "then I'll cook for you. My family run an Italian restaurant."

Kate Scott stared around at the beautiful atrium. "It's stunning", she said aloud. "Absolutely beautiful."

And it was. The entire building gleamed with ornamentation. It was palatial, with marble flooring, endless gilded staircases, and an abundance of cavernous foyers. There were unusual architectural touches, such as the red and gold pillars that dominated every room; the upstairs balconies that faced down onto the living area; the coffee tables and other assorted items made entirely from transparent glass, giving the room a chilly feeling; and the chandeliers invented from abstract shards of metal. It almost, Kate thought, looked otherworldly—the exhilarating size of the rooms and the metallic echo that resonated through the entire building came across as almost alien. She began to feel uneasy…she felt like she had entered another galaxy, another world entirely…it reminded her of how she felt when—when…

"Your case, Miss Scott?" a voice called her back into reality.

"Oh—thank you. And my name is Kate", she smiled.

Ryan Aliberti smiled back. "And I'm Ryan."

Lauren Wallace was brushing her long, ombré hair while gazing in the expansive looking-glass inserted on the wall of her exquisite bedroom. A queen-sized bed, with an olive-green blanket and countless pillows of varying colours, was front and centre, engulfing the majority of the room. She looked at herself again and smiled. She knew she was beautiful. Built at six feet tall, she had a tiny waist and always wore tasteful, but stylish outfits. She had her evening outfit sorted – a silk jumpsuit, navy blue, with a dark makeup.

"Wonder where she is—Umayah Owen", she thought to herself as she pulled out her mobile phone. "No signal—unsurprising out here. Never mind. You, Lauren Wallace, are here for a rest. Not for work. And a rest is what you will be getting."

"Will", laughed Jack Harding as he walked over to the built-in Jacuzzi in the living room of their deluxe double suite. "Get out of there; you'll shrivel up."

Will, whose head was lolled back on the edge of the hot tub, the steam rising from the water and wafting out of the window, laughed back. "It's lush. You should get in."

"I don't want to stink of chemicals, thank you", said Jack as he ran his fingers through Will's hair with one hand and held his wineglass to his lips with the other. "Get out; dinner's in half an hour, and you need to shower."

Will relented and switched off the jets. He rose from the Jacuzzi, the water trickling down his rippled muscles, and grabbed a towel. As he leant over, he noticed something framed on the wall. It looked like a poem.

It ran:

 _Ten little soldier boys went out to dine_

 _One choked his little self, and then there were nine_

 _Nine little soldier boys stayed up very late_

 _One overslept himself, and then there were eight_

 _Eight little soldier boys travelling to Devon,_

 _One got left behind, and then there were seven_

 _Seven little soldier boys chopping up sticks,_

 _One chopped himself in half, and then there were six_

 _Six little soldier boys playing with a hive,_

 _A bumblebee stung one, and then there were five_

 _Five little soldier boys going in for law,_

 _One got into chancery, and then there were four_

 _Four little soldier boys sailing out to sea,_

 _A red herring swallowed one, and then there were three_

 _Three little soldier boys walking in a zoo,_

 _A big bear hugged one, and then there were two_

 _Two little soldier boys sitting in the sun,_

 _One got all frizzled up, and then there was one_

 _One little soldier boy left all alone,_

 _He went out and hanged himself, and then there were none_

"How bizarre", he muttered to himself.

"Will!" Jack called from the bedroom.

"Uh—yeah, I'm getting in the shower, babe."

Gloria Selwyn positioned the wooden owl statuette on her bedside table and exhaled meaningfully, her eyes gently shut.

"I feel you with me, Little Echo", she said in a low-toned voice. "I will always feel you with me."

She pulled the eight rings from her fingers and flexed her knuckles. "What a beautiful house", she said aloud, fluttering over to the window, which afforded a splendid view of the sea below. "My aura agrees."

Her greying frizz of hair held away from her eyes with a pair of butterfly clips, she set to work channelling Little Echo.

The Rivers twins were allocated adjoining bedrooms.

"What a washout", said Phoenix as he gently took his Turnbull & Asser shirts from his suitcase. "No servants, so we have to unpack our own bags."

Evelynne, who had stopped by her brother's room for no other apparent reason than to lament, groaned in anger.

"I wish we'd stayed in Belgravia."

"You were the on who was eager to come, Sister Dearest."

"Shut up", she snarled, throwing the door open and marching back into her own room.

Downstairs, several members of the group were present for dinner. Dr Dan Brown, dressed in a suave dinner jacket, stood by the open French windows, admiring the cool breeze that had set in, accompanied by the orange-pink sunset. Ryan Aliberti stood at the grand piano, dabbing a finger up and down on a key or two. Angus Thompson, in a dressy shirt and blue chinos, continued to make eyes at Kate Scott, who wore a simple black evening dress and chatted pleasantly with Dr Brown.

"What are you a doctor of?" she asked him as they both gazed out at the sun disappearing over the water.

"Clinical Criminal Psychology", he responded, giving off his handsome smile.

"Oh, wow."

"I'm Head of Criminology at Alhampton University. And what do you do, Miss Scott?"

Kate hesitated a little. "Just between jobs at the minute. But I'm a financial adviser—used to work at HSBC in London."

She prayed he would not probe any further, and thankfully, he didn't. The remaining guests arrived, all in their finery – which ranged from the elegant efforts of Lauren Wallace, in her blue silk jumpsuit, and the Rivers twins, in their lavishly expensive eveningwear; to the casual appearance of Will and Jack, who wore skinny ties and buttoned shirts; to the downright ridiculous look that Gloria Selwyn gave off, in an enormous sheath of yellow and black patchwork material. Nonetheless, everyone was cordial to one another. It was Ryan Aliberti who mentioned what they were all thinking.

"Still no host. Where is Owen?"

Evelynne Rivers grunted. "I'm beginning to think this entire thing was a total waste of time. I don't like being the so-called "guest" of somebody who doesn't even bother showing up on time."

Angus shrugged. "It happens."

"Not to people of our social standing", said Evelynne, playing with the heavy gold chain around her neck.

As another awkward silence pervaded, Kate's eyes fell on the long, heavy marble mantelpiece that ran above the prepossessing fireplace.

"How unusual—those ornaments."

Ten glass figurines were situated beneath the wide mirror just above. Each was different, but they were all intricately designed.

"Superb", said Gloria Selwyn, pulling down her glasses to examine the detail on each of them.

"They look like soldiers", said Ryan.

"The ten little soldier boys", said Will, nodding his head.

Everyone looked to him. He explained, "there's a copy on the wall in our suite upstairs."

"I have one as well, Mr…" said Gloria.

"And me", said Dan.

It seemed that everybody had a copy of the rhyme in their bedrooms. "How does it go?" asked Angus Thompson.

Kate cast her mind back. "Oh—something like 'ten little soldier boys went out to dine, one choked his little self and then there were nine'."

"Yes, that's it", nodded Gloria.

" _Ladies and gentlemen, silence please!_ "

A loud, resonant voice echoed into the room, billowing through the cavernous area. Everyone jumped, startled, staring around for the source of it, but the voice continued unabated.

" _You are charged with the following indictments:_

 _Daniel George Brown, that on the 14_ _th_ _March 2001, you did cause the death of Yolanda Harriet King._

 _Gloria Vanessa Selwyn, that on the 5_ _th_ _August 1997, you brought about the death of Scarlet Mather._

 _William John Teague, that you brought about the death of Ellena Anderson on October 2_ _nd_ _2009._

 _Jack Edward Harding, that on the 12_ _th_ _March 2012, you were responsible for the death of Justin Savage._

 _Lauren Jeanne Wallace, that on the 1_ _st_ _July 2006, you caused the suicide of Isaac Hendrix._

 _Ryan Aliberti, that in February 2010, you did murder Rachel Cole and Philippa Rice._

 _Kate Elizabeth Scott, that on 11_ _th_ _June 2014, you were responsible for the death of Destiny Lomax._

 _Angus Matthew Thompson, that on 22_ _nd_ _December 2014, you did kill Robert Timothy Heyman._

 _Evelynne Rivers and Phoenix Rivers, that on 6_ _th_ _May 2005, you brought about the death of Desmond Michaels._

 _Prisoners at the bar, have you anything to say in your defence?"_


	4. Chapter 3

The atrium erupted with angry shouts.

"What the hell was that?!"

"Is this some sort of joke?!"

"I don't believe it…!"

"Alright, where is he?! How dare he…?"

In the midst of it all, Jack Harding had grown pale. He began to slope against Will, who steadied him down onto a divan. Will turned to the others and said hurriedly:

"He needs a drink of water—someone."

Ryan, with trembling hands, poured a glassful of water from a metal pitcher nearby and handed it to Will, who held it in his boyfriend's hands and pressed it to his lips.

"Who had the gall to say those things?!" shouted Dan, who seemed to have transformed from his previously chatty, smiley self.

"It wasn't one of us", said Lauren, glancing around at the high vaulted ceilings. "It came from somewhere up there."

She and Ryan rushed up the stairs to the landing. After a while of scouring their eyes around, Ryan approached a heavy wooden chest and pulled the hefty lid open. Inside was a CD player on a timer, set at exactly 7:35pm. He pressed the replay button, and the booming echo returned.

" _Ladies and gentlemen, silence please…_ "

He switched it off and pulled the disc out. "Yeah—this is it", he said to Lauren. "It was on a timer."

He leant over the metal railing and called back down to the group.

"It could have been left here for days, with the timer ticking away", he explained.

"It's someone's idea of humour", said Angus.

"But who?" uttered Kate. She had sat in a golden-framed armchair, her face rivalling Jack's for its lack of colour. Her green eyes were wide and glossy. She appeared unwell.

"This Mr Owen, clearly", said Gloria, fiddling with the zodiac emblems that dangled around her neck.

"Well", said Dan, his face red with anger, "whatever his source, he could not be more wrong—I never, ever…"

"This crap has gone on for long enough!" Evelynne shouted in fury.

Lauren and Ryan had approached the foot of the stairs. Lauren, who appeared more baffled than traumatised, spoke strategically.

"Evelynne's right; this has gone on too long now. Clearly, we've all been bamboozled."

"I knew Uriah Owen sounded weird", said Will, agitated.

"How did you come to be here?" asked Lauren.

"Jack and I received a letter from Owen, who said he had heard through a friend that we had become engaged, and said he wished to invite us here for a party to congratulate us. He mentioned people we apparently knew at college."

"I was invited by Ursula Owen", said Gloria, sitting wearily in her chair, "who claimed to be an old friend."

"Same for all of us", said Ryan solemnly, shaking his head.

Phoenix shook his head in amazement. "We've all been lured here. We've all been tricked into coming here so that we can be accused of these crimes – which are, I might add, all lies."

"How do we know that?" asked Angus rudely.

"U N Owen", said Dan, interrupting the beginnings of a fight. "What an unusual name. Notice—in each of our cases, whether the name is Uriah or Ursula or Umayah…it's always U N Owen. It could be—it could stand for Unknown."

Nobody seemed to take this revelation with much aplomb.

"We have to get away from here", muttered Kate, her voice almost a whisper. "We—we have to…"

Ryan placed a careful hand on her shoulder. Kate shut her eyes slowly, shivering slightly as she did so.

"She's right", said Gloria. "We ought to call for the boat right away."

"But there's no phone reception here", said Will. "And I didn't see any telephones in our rooms."

"You mean—you mean we're cut off from the land?" asked Evelynne, her voice quivering in fright.

"It would appear that way", said Lauren thoughtfully.

"The best we can do is try to establish some form of contact with the mainland", said Ryan reasonably. "There's nothing we can do until we've managed that. We definitely have to get away from here."

Angus Thompson did not seem nearly as bothered as his counterparts did. He was sitting by the drinks table, casually pouring himself another brightly coloured cocktail.

"Who wants to leave?" he asked in confusion. "You're not going to let a silly little thing like that ruin our weekend?"

"I would hardly call it silly", said Evelynne sharply. "I suppose that, being of the vulgar and uncouth background you are so proud to confess you are from, then you…"

"Oh, give it a rest, you spoiled little bitch!" cackled Angus, sticking his middle finger up at Evelynne. "You make me feel so, so sick."

He turned to the others and sipped at his cocktail.

"I don't know about any of you—but Mr Owen was telling the truth when he accused me of killing that man. Although I can't remember the name of the guy, this Heyman dude could have been a disabled kid who died when me and my mates got pissed one night. This kid—he was asking for it. He was brain-damaged, didn't understand that we were smashed…"

"What did you do to him?" asked Ryan, a little scared.

"We locked him in the boot of a car for a laugh."

"Some laugh", said Dan under his breath.

"Hey, I was pissed", said Angus defensively. "I didn't know he would have a fit and die, did I?"

People could hardly believe what they were hearing. They could find almost nothing to say at all. Angus looked around at them and smirked.

"What's happened? It's like someone's died in here", he laughed. "Come on—you're all on holiday, for crying out loud!"

He laughed and knocked back his cocktail in one. He coughed a little, then a little more, then clutched his throat in desperation, and then – to the horror of the nine others in the room – fell to the ground, his glass shattering.

"My god!" exclaimed Jack.

"What's happened to him?" asked Gloria frantically.

Dan, Ryan, Will, and Kate rushed to Angus, who lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. After a moment of examination, Ryan raised his head.

"The poor guy's dead."

"What?!" shrieked the twins.

"Dead?" gasped Jack.

"No—no—no", muttered Will, rising to his feet. "I don't believe it—he can't be…he was alive just seconds ago."

"You can refuse to believe all you like", said Ryan. "But he's dead."

"Never known that happen before", said Dan in befuddlement. "He seems to have just spontaneously asphyxiated."

"In the midst of life, we are in death", said Gloria in a low whisper.

Lauren Wallace stooped to the shards of broken glass and picked one up delicately. Holding it to her face, she caught a whiff of the contents.

"Oh", she said as she wrinkled her nose. "Almonds."

"Potassium cyanide", said Jack from his seat. "That's what they use in detective novels."

"Yes", said Dan, nodding his head. "It acts instantaneously—but here, if poison was in that glass…that means he must have committed suicide."

Evelynne Rivers exploded. She snatched up her handbag and sauntered from the room in a surly fashion, screaming angrily:

"I'm not staying here a minute longer! I'm getting a phone signal and I'm ringing Daddy to come and get us!"

All stood in silence as they heard the ricochet of her bedroom door slamming upstairs. Then, very slowly, they all stared at one another, at a complete loss for words.

 **Ten little soldier boys went out to dine,**

 **One choked his little self and then there were nine.**


	5. Chapter 4

Angus Thompson's body had been laid his bedroom.

At a quarter past eleven, Dan Brown was standing on the balcony of his room, drawing a cigarette to his lips and puffing thoughtfully at it. He was so lost in his dazed thoughts that he hardly heard his bedroom door open.

"Hi", said Lauren Wallace as she arrived on the balcony next to him.

He turned to her and managed a half-smile. "Hey. You okay?"

"As okay as I can be after this evening", she sighed. He looked her up and down. Despite the recent traumatic events, he could not deny that he found her absolutely stunning – navy blue suited her.

"Look", he sighed, staring back out at the sea slowly rippling along. "What Mr Owen said on that disc—it's not true."

"Isn't it?" she asked, leaning against the railing with him.

He paused. "No—it's not. Yolanda…she was my girlfriend, who died in a car accident. I was the one driving. I swerved to avoid a child in the road, and drove into a steel beam. It sliced right through her side of the car. She didn't stand a chance."

Lauren felt surreally moved. Her glossed lips parted a little as she said almost inaudibly, "I'm sorry."

Dan squinted back the tears that threatened to expulse. "It's okay."

A momentary silence filled the balcony, inhabited only by the squawk of the birds and the trickle of the water against the rocks. Eventually, Lauren spoke, in a calm, husky tone.

"Isaac Hendrix was a big business executive, you may recall", she said matter-of-factly. "And I had to write an exposé on him. Life was terrible for me back then. I was so sick of living in squalor and poverty, so fed up with rich people like him being so successful, and I…I needed money so badly. So I did something terrible. I embellished some story about him – Hendrix. I won't go into detail - but it involved his financial conduct. I didn't anticipate it being such a sensation. It damaged his reputation to the point where he felt he couldn't go on any more."

Dan looked across at her and asked: "What do you mean?"

"He hanged himself", Lauren sighed. "Poor old git. And in some people's eyes, I caused that. To them, it was my fault."

"That must be awful to live with", said Dan mechanically.

Lauren merely looked down at her hands. "I think about him every day. Loving husband and father—shot through the head because of a struggling biographer needing a bit of cash."

A silence followed. Lauren leant over and took Dan's cigarette from him and smoked from it.

"Thank you for listening to me", said Dan weakly.

"No—thank _you_ ", Lauren breathed, handing the cigarette back to him.

She stepped back, smiled, and walked back into the room, headed for the door, and left. Dan watched her go, and slowly began to cry more and more. "Yolanda", he muttered to himself, "oh—Yolanda."

Kate Scott sat down on her bed edgily. She was still fully dressed.

"How did he know about Destiny?" she breathed into the empty room.

It made her flesh creep. How did Mr Owen know?

" _Tom—Tom…where are you?_ " she thought. " _Please, Tom…are you thinking of me too?_ "

That velvety, ringing baritone prickled in her ears again.

" _I love you, Kate…I love you…_ "

" _Do you?_ "

" _Yes, yes I do._ "

Her face fell into a frown. Tom hadn't loved her. He loved Sally. Of course he loved bloody Sally—that's why he had that godforsaken child with her. Kate fidgeted a little as the same chilly sensation crept through her gut. It was the jealousy she had felt when looking at Sally, when seeing Tom and Sally together…when she found out that Sally was pregnant…

It was all his fault. He caused it all. He brought it all about. He should have seen sense—should have left his precious little wife and run away with Kate, where they could make love and travel the world and forget all about the bitch and her disgusting baby…

He should have foreseen it all on that June day when he pushed her over the edge—that text… _going away for a few days with Sally and Destiny_. How dare he?!

She tightened her fists and gripped the pillow. It was his fault—all his fault. Every last piece of it…he had driven her to doing what she had to do. It was the only way…to get rid of the only thing that tied his happiness with Sally's happiness…

 _Get rid of Destiny…_

Just down the corridor, in Evelynne's bedroom, she was engaged in a heated argument with her brother.

"We have to get away from here", she said angrily as she thrust her clothes into her suitcase. "And I'm leaving now—now!"

"As good an idea as that may seem, Sister Dearest", said Phoenix cynically, "there is no way off of the island."

"I am going to get a phone signal, Phoenix", shouted Evelynne. "And then I'm going back to London—how dare this idiot Owen mention them…"

She stopped midsentence, and grabbed her brother's arm. She hissed at him viperously:

"You dare— _dare!_ —breathe a single word about Granddad's death…"

Phoenix tugged his arm away. "Piss off", he spat as he left the room, slamming the door behind him. Evelynne screamed in anger and stamped her foot childishly.

"Tell me the truth", despaired Jack Harding. He was pacing frantically in the suite he shared with Will. Will was sat back on the bed, shirtless.

"Jack, baby", he crooned. "Calm down."

"Will, who was Ellena Anderson? Mr Owen said you killed her."

"I didn't kill her", said Will as he sat up further. "Babe—believe me; I have never killed anybody."

Jack burst into tears. "Why did he say you did?!"

"She was just a woman", said Will reluctantly.

"A woman? You cheated on me…"

"What? Are you mad? Babe—I would never cheat on you. I would never, ever."

He rose and placed strong hands on Jack's shoulders. Jack looked up at him with tearstained eyes.

"Who was she?" he asked.

"She—she was a wealthy old woman who lived on our street when I was a teenager…I used to do gardening for her to earn cash when I was at Sixth Form. She—she died of a heart attack during a burglary."

"And you…?" asked Jack.

"No—no, I didn't. Of course I didn't", pleaded Will, cuddling Jack tightly. He hoped he sounded as if he were telling the truth; thank goodness his beloved fiancé could not hear what his mind was relaying…

 _Not my fault she died, the old girl…I didn't know she had a weak heart. All I knew was that she kept diamonds—diamonds…and I needed the money for college funding. All I wanted to do was sneak in and take them…how did I know she would wake up and come out onto the landing? Her frail body, in a thin nightgown, turning the corner—the loud, booming shout that echoed from my voice…the way she leapt from her skin…_

They stood in silence for a few seconds before he spoke again.

"What about yours?"

Jack shuddered convulsively. _Justin Savage—my rival. Justin, always better with the boys…always better-dressed…always so happy…and then there was me—emotionally fragile and repressed by a homophobic mother. Justin deserved to die—what right did he have…now, he had no rights to speak of—he was a dead body, cold in the ground, with a stomach lined with arsenic…_

"Same", Jack said hurriedly, wiping his eyes. "Bollocks. Complete lie—complete…lie…"

They resumed the stance of silence, gripped tightly in each other's arms, both pondering the same chilling thought:

"Am I engaged to a murderer?"

Gloria Selwyn pulled back the curtains and stared out at the black night. Her baby blue eyes widened and a beatific look glazed over her face. She felt troubled. That young man—what a sight to behold…she had watched as his spirit rose from his earthly form and cried out like a mourning dove as he was absorbed into the ether. The sudden destruction of that poor creature's earthly vessel had set up psychic vibrations that acted adversely on her aura…that Taurus girl—the journalist with all the pretty makeup; she had a strong aura…very strong. Taurus children do. They are headstrong, they are ruthless…

Like Scarlet. Little baby Scarlet…

Ryan Aliberti lay awake, his eyes red and bloodshot. Every time he tried to shut them, faces popped up at him—Angus Thompson's blue, contorted face, mouth gaping…the face of that Wallace woman, her eyes cool and calculating…or that old witchy dear, and her hypnotic medallions swinging from her neck. But most of all, two faces stood out. Rachel and Philippa. They were both so beautiful, so magnetic in their qualities…but that wasn't how he remembered them. He only recalled their screams, their wails of torture and pain as he used them as human shields against those gunshots that pierced through their bodies…

He shook himself. They were dead—and that's how they would always be. Their days had been numbered, that's all.

Not unlike Angus Thompson's…

The inhabitants of Soldier Island were all relieved – in varying ways – when daylight streamed through the net curtains the following morning.

Phoenix Rivers rose, washed, styled his immaculate blond quiff, and dressed in a lavishly expensive white polo neck jumper and white chinos. Today was the day that they made it off of the island – Evelynne had demanded it, and Evelynne always got her own way.

He unlocked his bedroom door and headed down the corridor carrying his Chanel handbag, and bumped into Will Teague as he walked.

"Morning", said Will exhaustively.

Phoenix managed a smile. "Breakfast ready?"

"I don't know. I think Kate, Jack, and Miss Selwyn are on it."

"My sister up yet?"

Will hesitated and eyed this rude, childish twenty-year-old. "I don't know. I'm not the hired help."

Phoenix ignored him and marched to the door to Evelynne's room.

"Evie?" he barked. "Evie!"

He tried the door-handle. It was locked. "For god's sake, Evie—it's breakfast, and you wanted to get away today."

After a little while of knocking and shouting, he turned back to Will.

"She's not usually like this", he said.

"Maybe she's in the bathroom", responded Will.

"She'd have shouted back. She's got one hell of a voice on her."

Dan appeared in the doorway to his bedroom, a razor in his hand.

"Is there a problem?"

"My sister's not awake yet", whined Phoenix. "She's just being a lazy bitch."

Dan and Will both tried the door, but it was definitely locked. Being fairly big men, they both shoved heavily on the door, and eventually, it sprang open. Phoenix pushed them out of the way and crossed the threshold, but his legs immediately turned to jelly and he flopped into Dan's arms. Will gasped and took a step back.

Evelynne Rivers was indeed still in bed—or, at least, half in bed. Her head dangled over the edge, the skin all over her body starchy white. Her eyes were wide open, as was her mouth. Just where the ends of her dyed hair hung towards the ground lay a white pillow, irremediably stained with two dark, round blobs; corresponding eerily with the dried blood around Evelynne's nostrils.

One thing was for certain – that they would only need to cook breakfast for eight.

 **Nine little soldier boys stayed up very late,**

 **One overslept himself, and then there were eight.**


End file.
